


You're lucky you're cute

by MyBoyBlue



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, In which werewolves can get drunk and suffer the consequences, Kissing, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBoyBlue/pseuds/MyBoyBlue
Summary: Stiles takes a hesitant and hungover Derek to a roller disco, because reasons.





	You're lucky you're cute

**Author's Note:**

> I just got this hilarious mental image of Stiles and Derek rollerskating together and it being all awkward and cute, which lead to writing this oneshot. Seeing this as more of a writing exercise than anything else, so not much thought was put into the plot details or anything. Hope you enjoy!

One glance at that stupid, lopsided grin and those hopeful, naive eyes had Derek saying “nope” and slamming the door shut with a force he hoped would instill a sense of finality and assertion.

“Oh c’mon, Der! You promised!”, came Stiles’ muffled whine from the hallway as Derek let himself collapse back on the couch with a groan.

“Can’t hear what you’re saying”, Derek shouted back, burying his face in one of the mismatching throw pillows Laura had insisted on giving him to make his place more “homey”.

Not today, he thought. Days like these - when colors seemed too bright and sounds too noisy - were best spent in bed. Alone. Preferably with a large pizza with extra cheese. Derek’s stomach grumbled.

Stiles, however, had other ideas as he had now taken to speaking through the mailslot.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of some competition, sourwolf? I mean you did paint a pretty intimidating picture of your skating skills but…”

Derek shot straight up from the couch, marched to the door and swung it open, swaying slightly on the spot as the abrupt movements had made him slightly dizzy.

“When did I ever say that?!” He barked, squinting suspiciously at the gangly freshman on his doorstep.

“Last night”, Stiles shrugged, hands tucked safely into his pockets. The worn, tacky roller skates hanging around his neck lifted with the movement.

“I was drunk, you idiot. And where the hell did you get those anyway? In the 80’s?” Derek scoffed, nodding toward the offending equipment.

“Okay first of all, it’s called vintage, thank you very much. and second… hey, where you going?”

Derek had turned on his heel and trudged back into the apartment, shoulders drooping in defeat. He’d already heard enough to know this was going to be a long day.

Stiles followed suit, plopping down on the indented couch like he was right at home. Derek liked to compare him to one of those annoying, itchy rashes that never really went away no matter what you did. If rashes had the ability to look kinda cute sometimes, that is. Not that Derek would ever admit such a thing out loud.

“Go home Stiles, I’m not in the mood for your games today”, Derek sighed, leaning against the kitchen bar and rubbing his temples. Coffee. He needed some coffee right about now.

“Dude, Cora’s gonna give you so much shit if you ditch out on us today”, Stiles warned, giving Derek one of those pointed looks that annoyed the hell out of him.

Shit. He was right. Derek cursed whatever deity responsible for putting those two in the same class and making them inseparable from the get go.

His little sister hovered over him worse than any helicopter parent, sticking her nose into his business any chance given, whilst Stiles… Stiles had, without explanation, just sort of grown attached to him after the semester’s first sorority party and hung around in his periphery ever since.

Derek liked to imagine that he, as a senior, had more important things to do than hang around babysitting teens. Like attending college baseball practices and studying for finals.

Yet here he was, once again trying to come up with a suitable excuse to avoid hanging out with Stiles and the gang, and once again, he was failing miserably. He had tried to lie his way out once or twice with unwanted consequences, so he knew better than to try again. The kid was way too smart for Derek’s liking.

“At least let me shower and get some coffee first”, Derek grumbled, accepting defeat.

“Yeah, sure! No problem, man.” Stiles grin was so sincerely happy and victorious that Derek had to avert his eyes. He was most definitely not blushing.

»»————-¤————-««

Derek had never felt more out of place in his worn leather jacket and ripped jeans as he stared at the young, bubbly clerk holding out a pair of rollerblades at him.

“Just return these here before you leave”, she said briskly, wishing him a nice day as they started walking towards the skating rink. Stiles was laughing by his side.

“Dude, you’re holding them like they’re made out of explosives or something.”

“They reek of death”, Derek complained, sitting down on one of the benches surrounding the roller rink.

“Which is why I brought my own”, Stiles explained, as if owning a tacky pair from the 80’s was the most obvious solution.

The whole place bathed in multi colored disco lights with obnoxious old school hits bouncing off the walls with a blaring intensity. It smelled of dust and old gym equipment.

It was ironic, really. One after the other their friends had dropped out of today’s plans, Cora included, due to an apparently massive, collective hangover.

Stiles had simply shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the whole thing.

“Well, looks like it’s just you and me then, sourwolf.” He’d almost sounded smug, making Derek speculate if Stiles had orchestrated the whole damn thing. Surprisingly, the prospect didn’t necessarily upset him all that much.

Stiles was done lacing on his rollers and heaved himself effortlessly onto the rink, pushing himself forward and doing a few graceful spins to warm up. Derek was sweating already. Why did he always let himself get talked into these stupid shenanigans?

“Come on, Der!” Stiles urged, skating over to where he sat unmoving and awkward. “Aw, hey. We can go slow. I’ll show you how to do it.”

Stiles’ expression had softened into something that could almost be described as affection. Derek decided to ignore it for now. Instead, he grabbed Stiles outstretched hand after a moment’s hesitation and stood up on wobbly legs. He felt utterly ridiculous.

“There you go, big guy”, Stiles beamed, grabbing onto Derek’s other hand and slowly sliding them backwards on the rink towards the middle of the floor.

The place was mostly empty, save for a few parents with their children and a couple or two, due to it being an early Sunday afternoon. Derek was eternally grateful for that as he felt more and more like Bambi on ice.

“Doing great!” Stiles encouraged as they started skating at a slow pace around the track. Or, rather, Stiles was doing most of the skating, pulling along a very terrified Derek, currently clinging to his arm. His already wounded pride had by now packed its bags and left the building without so much as a “see ya, sucker!”.

“Don’t go so fast”, Derek hissed, almost losing his footing and stumbling sideways into Stiles who barely managed to stay upright.

“You call this fast? Dude, you’re so _adorable_ ”, Stiles’ guffawed, securing his hold on Derek as "It’s raining men" began playing from the speakers. Derek groaned internally.

»»————-¤————-««

“Well, that went better than expected”, Stiles quipped as they finally left that godforsaken place. They walked close together, arms bumping into each other as Derek kept his eyes on the ground. He’d never been much of a talker, which Stiles conveniently made up for with endless monologues about the most arbitrary topics, but right now his thoughts were elsewhere.

To be fair, it had been an accident and it had only happened once, briefly. At one point both of them had stumbled down on the rink, limbs flailing and Derek somehow ending up sprawled between Stiles’ legs and suddenly none of them were much too interested in continuing with the practice. It had all gotten very awkward very fast.

So they had decided to go get milkshakes and burgers instead. The air between them sizzled with things unsaid and it all felt very strange and new at least from Derek’s point of view. Stiles on the other hand didn’t seem bothered at all. The little fucker could be frustratingly oblivious at the most crucial of times.

“Speak for yourself, kiddo. I feel like I just got bulldozed by a zamboni”, Derek muttered but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh yeah? Almost like when I got crushed by a two hundred pound pessimist who doesn’t know how to have a good time?”, Stiles teased, elbowing Derek in the ribs.

“Shut up”, Derek smirked, shoving him right back.

The burger joint near campus was crowded with hungover students smelling of old booze and regrets, so they decided to take the food with them to Derek’s place. The sun had already begun to set and they were starving.

»»————-¤————-««

Derek crumpled the burger wrapper in his hand after finishing and tossed it into the trash can by his desk, nearly missing the mark.

“So…”, he said, wiping off his hands on his jeans. Whatever, he’d wash them later anyway.

Stiles was busy with slurping loudly on his milkshake, apparently trying to get 'every last drop out. He still had fries left. The noise was grinding in Derek’s ears.

“What was today about?” Derek blurted before being able to stop himself. Apparently Stiles wasn’t the only one suffering from a faulty brain to mouth filter once in a while.

The slurping stopped abruptly as Stiles looked up from his phone and threw a puzzled look in his direction.

“The what of the what now?” Stiles asked, now chewing on the straw.

“What… what do you want from me, Stiles?” Well, shit. This is not how Derek had planned the evening to end. Did he really say that out loud? Had to be the hangover messing with his brain functions or something.

There was a long pause. Worryingly long for someone like Stiles. Derek was sweating again, feeling the rising urge to flee somewhere. Anywhere.

“You know what, forget that I said anything”, Derek laughed nervously, getting up to throw away some of the empty containers.

“Dude,-”, Stiles stood up, apparently snapping out whatever reverie he’d wallowed in and followed Derek to the kitchen area. “-what do you think I want? Like I didn’t think I could get much more obvious than this.”

Derek froze in place and turned around slowly. No fucking way. Stiles actually looked a little bit nervous now, his voice sounding slightly uneven. Well, this was definitely new.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I can be pretty damn oblivious, you know”, Derek replied, holding his breath. What the hell was he doing?!

It’s as if the last piece of a puzzle finally clicked in place as realization flashed over Stiles face and the next thing Derek felt was Stiles’ lithe arms wrapping around his neck, warm, almost desperate lips searching for his own.

Derek was pretty sure he had suddenly landed in some alternate dimension or actually died and went to heaven. Because this. This could not be actually happening, could it?

Stiles’ frustrated whine brought him back to reality. “Could you maybe shrink by a few inches or something? Because standing on my toes for this long is getting pretty painful and as much as I’d like to climb you like a tree…”

Derek decided shut him up by leaning down and kissing him. Stiles went lax in his arms, like Derek had somehow, miraculously, found his off-button or something. Figures.

It didn’t last long before Stiles was reciprocating the kiss, however, eagerly letting his fingers tangle in Derek’s hair, pressing his whole body into his.

Derek was the first one to pull away for air. For a moment he feared he’d actually forgotten how to breathe as his whole system felt like it was malfunctioning. He felt tingly and feverish all over.

“Okay, but next time we’re just gonna go to the movies or something”, was what he managed to say instead.

Stiles’ eyes lit up and he laughed out loud.

“Yeah, whatever you say, sourwolf.”


End file.
